Chapter 37

The nights were colder now. Which meant food would become scarcer for the homeless, and they would become more desperate. More likely to make deals with the devil. It wasn't a question of who was the bigger evil in Requiem, only who had more power. A new king with a full guard to enforce his rules or a crime lord hell-bent on trapping Death's Maiden, but with his own sort of army bound to him. A king's man could falter or piss himself and run off, but the Maestro's compulsion magic wasn't the same. An order would be followed, even to the detriment of the subject.

I sat upon a crumbling rooftop in Sinner's Square, staring out over the two cities, running my fingers over the new band on my arm. Would Death care? Not likely. Those who came before me had slipped into the seduction of lethal magic. I was no different. I'd used the power in a different way and wielded it like a promise of pain rather than the follow-through. But if I'd truly lost my soul to the Maestro, no one was safe. It was not an easy burden to bear.

The crowds trickled out of Misery's End, tramping down the streets with their threadbare coats pulled tight to battle the icy breeze while slipping back into Requiem's dire reality. I waited, giving those headed to the Syndicate house long enough to get home and settled before I snuck in. But when I opened my bedroom door and found Paesha pacing inside, she brought a finger to her lips before I could question her. Less than three seconds later, Orin slammed the door open, eyes nearly black and a hint of those eerie veins peeking from beneath his collar as if they'd crept up his neck. His broad shoulders heaved as Orin's wild eyes met mine, sweeping down my body, searching for gods knew what. Still, that gaze burned a path so strong it was as if I could feel phantom hands wrapping around me, pulling me toward him.

I opened my mouth to explain. To promise him I would be careful with the dangerous deal I'd made, but the Huntress grabbed my arm and squeezed. A warning.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "Why weren't you home when we got here?"

He didn't know yet. Good.

I didn't want to lie, but his fury drew my own, and starting another fight with him was not on my to-do list after the evening I'd had. Confident the blue band on my arm was hidden, I drew a long, exasperated breath. "I went for a walk. I'm tired of being cooped up in this house."

"How rough it must be for you," he growled.

Paesha moved in front of me. "Calm down, Orin. She's not your prisoner. Or have you forgotten?"

"Since when are you on her side?" he asked, glare shifting between us.

"Since she kicked your ass in the front yard, and I won that bet. Look around. Everyone's fine." She stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Just because you think it's your job to protect us all doesn't mean it truly is."

"It is my job," he argued.

"Last time I checked, I was grown."

"We have only us, and if we aren't careful, this world will end us."

She shook her head, a golden-brown curl falling loose. "Whatever fate the old gods have damned us to, it's not that. But we're a team. Remember the first night you found me on the streets and forced me to come stay here? And Ezra stayed up all night because he was confident you'd made a huge mistake bringing in the infamous Huntress? And you told him he worried too much… You didn't have to take his place when he died."

"P…" Orin's voice trailed off as he softened.

"We know you lose sleep and pull strings we don't know exist to make this little haven safe. But life's short, and you're allowed your own joy, too. Take a breath. I'm starting to worry about you."

He smoothed a hand down his face, shoulders falling. "Give us a second?"

She nodded, twisting toward the door. "Come find me when you're done, Dey."

"Okay," I managed, the first word I'd spoken.

"Be nice," Paesha said, throwing an elbow into Orin before disappearing down the hallway.

We stood in silence, staring for several quiet moments.

"I see you're in one piece tonight?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "The boss was busy. The show wrapped early. I guess he's planning something big for tomorrow."

"Well, I'm glad there's no cauterizing wounds or bandaging gashes tonight. I think we're running low on supplies."

He scratched the back of his head, though he seemed… nervous?

"What?"

"Walk with me?"

I didn't hesitate to take his outstretched hand, but the moment the connection was made, I suddenly fell right back into that place that made me feel so lost. I wasn't the confident woman trapping an asshole into his own power. I was just a woman, standing with my new husband, so, so aware of every single one of my shortcomings.

He led us out of the house quietly, never letting go of my hand. We were several paces away from the house before he spoke. "I thought… I'm sorry I yelled. It's just… When you weren't home tonight when we got here, I had this terrible feeling something bad happened. In the past, I told myself you were out hunting and murdering and slaughtering, and I'd sit and stew with that until I couldn't. But this was different. I knew you weren't. I know you wouldn't unless Death gives you a name. But this sense of dread just came over me, and I couldn't shake it. And then you weren't home, and no one had seen you. I thought maybe the king…"

He was beautiful in the moonlight, confessing without saying the words that he cared. That he'd worried about me. I lifted my free hand to his cold cheek, and he closed his eyes, turning into my touch.

"I'm sorry everything is broken, Deyanira. But I want to fix it. I don't think I'm supposed to want that. Hell, I don't think I'm supposed to want you, but here we are, and I can't help the way my heart fucking aches for you."

He moved a hand into my hair, pulling me until we stood chest to chest. I had to tilt my head back just to peek into those eyes that wrecked me. And there, for just a moment, I wondered if I would ever look at him without hoping he would touch me.

"It does?"

"There are days when I wish you would draw that pretty blade from your side and slide it right into my heart because I think it would hurt less than wanting you and telling myself I can't have you."

I pulled away, shivers creeping down my arms at the loss of his warmth. "Why can't you have me? Am I not enough?"

"I am not enough. You are the stars and the storm, Wife. Somehow, you're both peace and destruction. Nightmare and a daydream. You're hell and home. Fear and solace. Slumber and panic. Kindness and rage. Light is easy to love, but I've seen your darkness, and I want that, too. I crave it. I want to fucking drown it in. But how does any man live up to that? Deserve that?"

I smiled. "I've heard it starts with stabbing, so I think we're halfway there."

He yanked me to him again, stroking his thumb over my cheeks, brushing the tips of my white lashes as my heart pounded against his, melting something inside of me. "The problem is there's darkness inside me, too, and no one can ever know about it."

I swallowed a gasp as I realized what he was saying. A silent confession if ever I'd witnessed one. He really had killed that man. And if the Maestro ever learned of it, he wouldn't need me when he could exploit his nephew so much easier. "Then don't tell a soul. Never speak of it aloud."

Dark lashes fell to his cheeks as he drew a steady breath. "Never a soul," he repeated.

The chilly breeze wrapped around us as we stood inches apart, lost in each other and the moment.

"It's cold," he whispered. "Let's go back inside."

"One more minute?" I could hear the shameless plea in my voice, and I didn't care. The second he learned about my deal with the devil, marking me as reckless as he feared, everything would be broken anyway. So, we stayed like that, lost beneath a sea of stars, standing in secrets so fragile, the world was sure to break soon, and our tender moments would become simple casualties of the truth.

The front door clicked shut, and he hung his head. "Paesha's probably in her room. I'll see you in the morning."

Conversation over. He had held back, and I could do nothing but stand there like a fool, wondering how he could pour his heart out to me with such confessions and still walk away. But then I considered the way he fought. The war mounting inside of him. I was his problem. I'd been his enemy. And those truths didn't just vanish with a few moments of vulnerability.

Each step to Paesha's room was a heavy one, coiled in confusion and sadness. Maybe I should have told him the truth out there, but it would have only complicated things more than they were. As long as Drexel had a grip on him, he would never let himself get closer. There was too much danger in weaknesses.

My knuckles grazed the Huntress's door so quietly, I didn't know if she'd hear me, but when it swung open, revealing the disastrous room, she grabbed my forearm, yanked me inside, and shut the door.

She crossed her arms over her chest with her mismatched eyes pinned to me. "It would do him some good to have a little fun, Maiden. Honestly, you, too. The tension in this house is too much. Why haven't you kissed him yet?"

"Is that why you dragged me in here?"

"No, but gods, if I have to sit at one more dinner with the two of you eye fucking, I'm moving out. What's the deal?"

"First of all, there's no eye fucking. I don't even know what that is. And there's too much bad history. Too much fighting."

"Fighting is just passion. Get over it. Trust me when I tell you, life is too short for sitting around, wondering what might have been. I'd give anything to fight with Ezra again."

Smiling sadly, I moved away from the window. "I bet you were a force to be reckoned with, Huntress."

The moment the memories threatened to haunt her, she shook her head and began clearing a path to the chair, also covered with clothes. Gathering them in her arms, she tossed them onto the floor and sat, swinging her legs over the arm. "What's the plan?"

"I've bargained that he cannot ask you anything about this, but it's best to keep it between you and me, and we're going to have to bring in Quill."

Repeating the entire conversation with the Maestro, she went over and over all the words spoken with me until we both determined it was a solid plan. Risky, but there was hope.

"So, you'll teach me how to dance?"

She snorted. "There's no way you're going to truly learn by tomorrow night's show. But I have some pointers I can give you. As long as you're half-naked and aware of the beat, you'll be fine. If you can fight, you can dance. Just… touch yourself a little more. And yeah, we're going to have to bring in Hollis, too."

"Stop making that face,"Paesha growled, trying to put makeup on my lashes. "It's going to smear, and no one's gonna clap for smeared mascara."

"I will," Quill argued, sitting on the kitchen table beside us, legs swinging back and forth as she fed Boo from her dinner scraps.

"Thanks, kid." I shared a smile with her, and for the first time since she'd walked into that office, she smiled back.

"We're sure he's not coming home, right?"

"Thea promised to keep him busy until showtime. She's going to be pissed when she finds out we didn't tell her. But she'll get over it."

"It's just our secret," Quill said again, a truth she'd been repeating all day, as if being in on the plan made her feel important. "And soon, everyone is going to be free, and then maybe we can open up our own theater. You can still dance, P."

"Imagine," Paesha said, dusting pink blush across the little girl's nose until she giggled. "And you can perform, Quilly. No waiting for a grumpy old man to let you. No more bird cages."

She adjusted the dog on her lap. "And Boo can come, and I'll teach him to jump through rings and stuff."

"That sounds lovely. Why don't you run upstairs and get ready. We have to leave in ten minutes."

With a squeal of excitement, she leapt from the table and dashed toward her room.

"She's fine with leaving her friend behind."

"It's not her fault she isn't scared of him. I've been in her shoes." She gathered the makeup from the table and set it into a large bag as she continued. "When I was a kid, the Maestro hunted me, too. Before he had Misery's End, my father was bound to him. Back when he was still a mystery to most and I felt like I was in on something important. I don't know how he figured it out, probably ordered every secret from my father's mouth, but as soon as he knew I'd shown Huntress power, he began challenging me. It was a game. Find me a red shoelace and I'll give you a treat. See if you can find a man with a perfect circle birthmark. There's a book in the library in Perth. Bring it to me. And every time I did, he made such a big deal about how important I was. He was learning my boundaries and how my power worked quicker than I was. He knew I'd never find the man because I'd had no contact with him, but I could find the book because I'd seen it on his desk. He's clever and cunning. Dangerous, but oftentimes fair. If he really wanted to swing his hammer, he would cleave the world, but mostly, he's a greedy collector."

"That's why you stick so close to Quill. You're protecting her the only way you know how."

She nodded. "I can't save her from him. He's forbidden my interference. There are… things we are not permitted to speak aloud."

"Like how awful he is?"

She stared at me as if in confirmation. "But I can bring her home and make sure she's safe. She's smart, and eventually, my hope is that she will see the monster behind the mask. He's not a pervert, thank the gods. He just thrives on curating fear and controlling others. Every person is a quest to be conquered and collected."

"But why hasn't Elowen told her?"

"Because the Maestro knows what he has in Orin. The heart of a mother will never compromise the safety of her son. She treads lightly, or the boss takes her missteps out on him."

"So how did you end up bound to him? Or is that too personal?"

She set her bag on the kitchen table, picking at the loose strings along the frayed handle as she considered her answer, and then became wholly consumed by it. "I was always a smart kid. I figured him out a long time ago. I'd stick around for shelter and food when my father started spending more time at the opium den than at home with me. I refused him for a really long time, Dey. I knew the cost." She paused, voice filling with an ache. "But then I saw you. That first night in an alley in Sinner's Square. And I just knew you were hunting Ezra.

"The next night was the same, but I was hunting you, too. When you showed up twice, his fate was sealed. I couldn't think straight. Couldn't breathe for hours. He'd held me in his arms and promised me it wasn't him. I'd still gone to Drexel. And in my distraught mind, I'd forgotten to measure each of his words. He'd agreed to help me if I would bind myself to him for the rest of my hundred years. He said he would try to find a way to stop the Death Maiden." She forced a laugh past sad eyes, never really looking at me, but each word had taken her further and further into a memory that would have her dancing with his ghost, as the others had called it.

"Paesha," I whispered, trying to bring her back to this moment.

But she was too far gone. Too fragile. "His attempt was half-assed, and it didn't matter. I had three more days with Ezra before you snuck into his place and killed him in his sleep."

Every breath into my lungs hurt. Every inch of my skin, red with embarrassment and shame. It wasn't enough that he'd died. Not enough that I'd been his murderer. I'd even had a hand in her imprisonment to the monster. "If I could?—"

"I know, Maiden. You don't have to apologize again."

I stood, grabbing her arm firmly. "If ever I was going to question my sanity in this bargain, I take it back right now. I owe you this. I won't let us down."

"Ready?" Quill stood in the door to the kitchen, her perfect soft blue dress trimmed in white lace, painting her into a picture of innocence.

"Don't let her down," Paesha answered. "She's the future, and she's important."

"I don't thinkI'm wearing it right," I said from behind the curtain as Hollis's stomping boots gave away his pacing back and forth in a quiet corner of the theater's warehouse, opening and closing his pocket watch as if by habit alone.

"You're not meant to fight in it, Little Dove. You're to seduce. Consider your end goal."

And though his presence was typically calming, there was nothing comforting in this tragedy of a contraption. "If my end goal was to embed rubies into my asshole, I think we've made it."

"May I see?"

"My jeweled asshole? If you must. But I can't walk."

He whipped the curtain away and glared at me. "I would never design something that would incapacitate you. Oh! Good gods, you've put it on sideways. Do you not see the clasps? Who taught you to dress?"

I returned the scowl. "Well, it sure as hell wasn't Lady Visha."

"No doubt about that." He chuckled, pulling his brimmed hat from his head, revealing the waves of silver locks. "At least you got the heels on right. Might I help you?"

"I think you're going to have to."

Several minutes later, he stepped away, wrinkled hands clasped to his chest. "It's the most stunning piece I've ever created. Turn."

I spun as instructed, lifting my hands so he could examine the rubies covering my skin in clusters, only in the most important parts, strung together by invisible pieces of mesh and dainty lace that made it look like the jewels were skin, woven together with intricate metal clasps, camouflaged behind the red jewels. He held out a black lace robe, as if that would somehow make me feel less exposed.

Hollis lifted my chin with a gentle touch. "Don't lose your fire, Little Dove. Sex sells, and you've got to sell your soul to the crowd if you want to wipe away their fear enough to make them stand. The greatest hurdle of your life is before you, and not because of our freedom, but your own."

"Maiden?" a trembling voice said from somewhere behind me. Genevieve stood holding a rolled parchment tied in a black ribbon, exactly the kind used in my mysterious birthday packages. She'd clipped her wild blonde curls from her face and painted her lips red. "The boss asked me to give you this."

I scowled, daring her to step toward me. She'd been mean to Thea, the kindest person on the planet, and maybe today was the day she learned a lesson. Rather than pulling the parchment from her outstretched hand, I turned to the old man. "Hollis, my friend, I need my blades."

He looked between the woman and me before nodding and shuffling back into the dressing area.

"You must?—"

I shot a hand up, stopping her. She stumbled backward as if I'd already struck her.

"I don't speak to hateful people without weapons. Now be a good girl and wait right there."

Her eyes bounced around the room, looking for anyone that might help her, but most of the performers were already backstage. There were times when I loathed the fear. But then there were others that empowered me, though I would never admit that to a soul.

"Arms up," Hollis said, stepping close.

I kept my eyes glued to the woman as he fastened the jeweled straps around my hips. We'd agreed that featuring who I was without pulling the blades would make the audience feel something, and where I took it from there would depend on my performance. But I was confident. Even if I had to stand there and threaten each of their lives to force the ovation, I would. Because that was not against the Maestro's rules.

"Do you see how close he stands?"

She nodded slowly, feet frozen in place.

"Do you think there's a reason he doesn't fear me?"

Again, she nodded.

"Speak it."

Her mouth opened and immediately snapped shut.

"Speak."

"Because you are friends."

Lifting Chaos from my belt, I twirled the curved handle. "And what do you think happens when people are mean to my friends?"

"Deyanira." Hollis meant to protect the woman, but only because of his own fear. No doubt, Drexel had given her too much leash, and she needed to be reined in.

"Speak," I demanded again.

"They… You…"

I stepped forward, sliding my dagger back into its sheath. "Do you know who else is my friend?"

She shook her head, glancing to Hollis for an answer, though he said nothing.

"No. You don't. So, watch what you say and how you say it to every single person, Genevieve, because I know where you sleep, and I'm very good with weapons."

She nodded frantically, sweat clinging to the blonde curls framing her face.

"You're dismissed," I purred, plucking the parchment from her hands.

The clack of her heels faded away, and the old man stepped in front of me, taking my hand and whispering, "If ever you question your strength, remember the kindness inside of you has its own power. Your morals and restraint are your true power, Little Dove."

"Too bad it's not dancing," I said, reading the carefully scripted lines of the message.

Maiden,

Darkest soul, your mountain to climb

In shadows cast, can brilliance shine?

No battles fought, no weapons held,

Dance alone, silent laments spelled.

No need for blades, nor show of might,

Onstage you'll shimmer in the night.

With weapon poised, but ne'er to employ,

Seduce the crowd, your presence a joy.

Ever yours,

DV

"Right." He flashed a kind smile, pulling the paper from my hand. "You can't pull your weapons, but you can take them onstage." As he so often did, he lifted the long golden chain from his pocket and clicked open his beautiful watch. "Time to charm the masses."